


What Lies Beyond The Stars

by maxsaystowrite



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Highport, If Griffin Forbes 30 Under 30 Media Luminary McElroy won't give me backstory I'll write it myself, M/M, davenchurch - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-06 23:04:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11610798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maxsaystowrite/pseuds/maxsaystowrite
Summary: "But, for our captain, his life was the mission. He was impossible to edit around and so, unfortunately, his name was all he kept."Davenport left home early to join the institute, he proposed his mission, his life's work. His entire being had become the mission before it was a reality. Then that reality was torn away from him, leaving him with only one word: "Davenport!"





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! A lot of the chapters are shorter than other. But I broke it up the way I did for natural breaks. I hope you enjoy!

The room is dark but the stars are peeking through the window. The moon floods the room with it’s only light, bathing Davenport in a pale glow. He slept soundly on his pile of newspapers and books, open and worn from study. It was late and he had school in the morning. 

 

Between classes and work, he studied something not taught in the modest schools around his home. The planar system is a relatively new study from the world’s top scientists. It fascinated him to no end. Davenport had the library’s entire section on the planar system scattered on his desk and has read them over and over. There was an institute studying the planes and it was his dream to be a part of it. He had written essay after essay, sending each of them to the Institute,  detailing how he believes if they tear a hole, temporarily, in their reality they might actually be able to explore their planes.  

 

But he was young and only knew as much as he could get his hands on. He had no idea how he’d break reality, but he was willing to try anything.

 

The door cracked open, but Davenport was in too deep of a sleep to stir. His mother stood in the door frame, watching her son breathe for a moment. Her sweet boy, just 15. She’d hate to lose him. Her knees and hands shook as she made her way to his desk. She placed the letter next to his head, a letter that had his name written in large, cursive font. The return address:

 

**The Institute of Planar Research and Exploration**

**2335 IPRE rd, Aerilon, 79087**

  
  
  


 

Davenport took in slow, even breaths. His stomach knotted and churned.  _ Is this joy or fear? _ He held the letter carefully in his hands. If he creased it ever so slightly, if it's not pristine, they might take away the offer.  Davenport made his way to the kitchen, his father was making eggs and his mother was slicing the bread she made that morning. She made it every morning, he hardly noticed the smell anymore. But he did this morning.  _ No more fresh bread… _ Davenport interrupted the sounds of sizzling eggs and the knife dragging on the counter.

 

“Mom, Dad, I have something to tell you.” His voice was already shaking, and their faces were already pale. They seemed to know something was coming. 

 

Davenport’s father looked up at him with far off eyes. “We’ll talk after breakfast, Dav.”

 

“Dad-”

 

“ _ Please _ ,” His mother’s voice broke. He saw her red eyes and tears stained cheeks for the first time. “Let's just have breakfast together, please, Davy.”

 

Davenport’s stomach dropped, guilt squeezed his lungs, his eyes felt heavy as he sat down at the table, placing the letter flat on his lap. The silence was deafening. There was normally jokes, pet names being exchanged, laughing, happiness. There were just eggs cooking and bread being sliced today. When his parents sat down, they placed a plate in front of him and it took everything Davenport had not to cry. Two sunny sides up eggs with bacon bent into a smile, halved slices of toast angled to look like a hat. He remembered as a child he’d ask for his plate like this every day. He then remembered when he was 11 he asked to never have it like this ever again.  _ “I’m eleven! I’m not a child anymore!” _ He wasn’t sure if his mother made his plate like this on purpose or by desperation. 

 

As they finished their meal in the same grating silence, they just stared at their plates. To end the meal was to start the conversation. Davenport didn’t want to start the conversation, he didn’t want to seem eager because he wasn’t. He dreaded it. 

 

It was his father who stood and collected the plates, running water over them in the sink, then going to the living room and waiting on the couch. Davenport looked at his mother who was staring at the table. He stood up and went to the chair opposite the couch. Davenport and his father waited for his mother to move. She didn’t. She cried, noiselessly, just tears dripping from her eyes to the table. 

 

“Lynn… We’ve got to talk about this.” His father said.

 

She sniffed hard and pushed all the tears from her eyes. She sat next to her husband and took his hand.

 

“Okay Davy, tell us what’s happening.”

 

Davenport began to explain the Institute of Planar Research and Exploration and their work very carefully. Every so often his mother’s eyebrows would furrow too much and he would go back and explain even simpler. They were hard concepts and he wanted his parents to know his passion, he wanted them to be able to explain what he would be working on.

 

“And.. they’ve offered me a place in their school, in their institute. I’ll start off as a student but I'll be immersed in every new theory and advancement they make and, and I'll be able to hop right into research after I graduate. It’s an amazing opportunity, they only want the best and brightest and mom… They want me.”

 

Davenport watched his parents, they had blank expressions, they were thinking, comprehending. A sob bubbled out of his mother’s mouth, her hands clapped to her eyes. He had seen her cry enough today. Davenport moved quickly over to her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close.

 

“This is something so extraordinary mama… I want this… More than anything else… I want this to be my life… I want so much more than…” He trailed off. He always thought about this conversation but he couldn’t say now that he was there.

 

“I know,” his mother managed, letting out another sob. “You were always so much more than the simple life… You were such a serious child… You have so much drive. Davy, I want you to be happy.”

 

A smile grew across Davenport’s face as he squeezed her tighter. 

 

“I thought you’d be a bard… So smart… So talented… But this...this is more than I could ever dream for you. You're so bright. You're going to do something so brilliant it's beyond my understanding,” She buried her head in his chest. “I’m just going to miss my boy…”

 

It dawned on him, that a small part of her was crying out of joy, out of necessity. She was just so used to crying out of sorrow, she didn’t know how to cry with a smile on her face. 

  
  


Davenport looked around his room, still a cluttered mess, linens and old sentimental trinkets lining shelves and the floor. The only empty thing was his desk. His books and papers were packed neatly in the bag on his back along with a handful of clothes.

 

They said they'd issue him new clothing as he grew. They said he'd have a small room and a roommate. The said there would be a cafeteria.  He could bring anything else he wanted, something sentimental. Something that came from his home and could only come from his home. Most when moving out would try to keep a hold on what they know, take as much as possible to remind them of home. Davenport didn’t have that inclination. 

 

There was only one thing that meant enough to him. As a child, he made a small music box, a project in school, everyone makes  _ something _ . The music box was the first thing he ever crafted and certainly not the last. The spool of metal tinking in the wooden frame was the melody his mother would sing to him as he slept as a child. He’d lay on her chest as she sang and the heat and the vibrations would lull him. As he got older and tried to grow up, he’d listen to the box instead of sitting with his mother. It was never the same.

 

Davenport ran his fingers over the oak, then picked it up, placing it safely on top of the rest of his things. He took nothing else with him to the Institute. No picture. No memento. He didn’t need sentimental trinkets, Davenport needed this chance, he needed this step forward.

  
  
  


He took one more look around his bedroom. He was sure he was going to see it again. He was free to come home for holidays and special occasions. He wondered if he should clean his room. He wondered if it mattered. Davenport decided he wanted to leave himself for his mother, not a fantasy. 

 

Leaving, he flipped the light switch off and closed the door behind him.

 

“I’m ready to go.”


	2. Chapter 2

 

The campus was larger than the town he grew up in, over 50 buildings. Dorms, schools, garages scattered as far as he could see. Davenport felt small for the first time in his life. These buildings, his place, wasn’t built for his size. It was built for humans, and other, larger beings. He could exist comfortably in this world but now he was very aware of his standing. He was a gnome, he knew that, but now it meant something.

 

On his first day, the Director had him in her office. An older dwarven woman with kind eyes. She admitted she wanted to invite him from his first essay, a piece about the strong bonds between people and the planes and how those bonds are the most powerful force in the entire universe. _“I saw promise in you from the start”._ He was a young mind that needed to be nurtured in a place where he could thrive. _“I believe you can take us far with your ideas.”_ He would start as any other student but she wanted to see him thrive at the Institute.

 

_“Maybe you’ll be sitting where I am one day.”_ She said that with a grin on her face. A nice gesture, but Davenport wanted to be in the field, not an office. But he smiled back and thanked her. And with a fading smile, she continued. _“Us smaller folks have to watch each other's backs.”_ Davenport didn’t know what that meant, so he thanked her anyway and promised he would.

 

As classes started, Davenport struggled. He thought he knew about the planes, but his library was out of date and limited and he was behind. The professors expected more of him. They expected everything from him. So Davenport spent day and night hunched over his desk, studying until dawn, or whenever he passed out from exhaustion.

 

_The twelve planes are constantly moving, shifting and orbiting each other_. Davenport had read that sentence twenty times and he had yet to absorb it. He read it again, out loud. It was a simple sentence, he should be able to understand it. Frustration boiled in his stomach, every time the line went through his head, the angrier he got. His attention went to the next line, maybe that one will sink it.

 

_They rely on each other to survive, pulling on each other and holding themselves at a perfect distance to function._

 

Davenport picked up the book and threw it against the wall with a loud thud. His roommate stirred in the bed across the room. This wasn’t the first time, thank goodness he was a heavy sleeper.

 

In the corner of his eye, Davenport saw the box. He had almost forgotten about it. He used to open it at least once a week, or whenever he felt particularly homesick. Lately, it’s been just another thing on his desk. Sliding it close to him, he admired the wood grain. Everything at the institute was either metal or painted. There was no appreciation for a rustic note in the decor. The hinges flicked open as if it hadn’t been sitting ignored for months and a light melody was plucked by the metal spurs and bumps.The tone swooped and piqued in a rocking motion. Davenport hummed along with it, feeling the vibrations in his own chest and connecting him, even slightly to his mother back home.

  


As he caught up, Davenport’s head cleared slightly. He was quick to learn new theories and understandings of the world around him. He was finally on the same level as his peers. But he had the next grade’s books in his bag; if he was going to lead, he would need to surpass his peers.

 

Davenport was shifting through letters as he ran into someone in front of him, nearly knocking himself over.

 

“Ey, there watch where you’re going.” A low voice said above him. Davenport shook his head and looked up. He had gotten used to looking up. He was tall, even by humans standards, and was surrounded by a pack of friends.

 

“Sorry, I really wasn’t paying attention.” Davenport muttered.

 

The one he ran into looked him over. “You’re a _really_ short dwarf aren’t you?”

 

Davenport sighed, rolling his eyes. _Humans_. “I’m a gnome, not a dwarf.” Davenport brushed past him, but his shoulder was caught by the human.

 

“A gnome!! No way!!” Another one said.

 

“Tell us a joke, gnome!”

 

Davenport’s face scrunched in confusion. “A joke? I don’t know any jokes.”

 

The group gasped, their mouths falling open and eye bugging out of their heads. The one holding Davenport’s shoulder clapped his hands over his mouth.

 

“But you’re a _gnome!_ ”

 

“Gnomes are supposed to be funny!”

 

“Gnomes are supposed to be _stupid_.”

 

“Yeah, how’d he even get in here?”

 

Davenport backed away from them as they started talking over each other about how out of all the gnomes in the world they found the only without jokes and shouting strange and personal questions. _Are your parents_ **_ashamed_ ** _that you’re not funny? Have you_ **_tried_ ** _telling jokes? What’s_ **_wrong_ ** _with you?_

 

Davenport ran from them, as his chest started to tighten. _Is this what they think of gnomes?_ He knew his people to be kind and light hearted, if not a little simple. Though, those humans didn’t. Davenport's mind raced as he connected the dots of these past few months. What the director said, his teachers pressuring him, the treatment from his fellow students. It dawned on him suddenly.

 

_I’m a token._

 

He shook his head. That couldn’t be. The director read his essay, she was impressed with him, right? He got into the IPRE for his hard work and his theories, _right_?

 

_It’ll be the reason I stay_ , he thought. It didn’t matter the reason why he was accepted into the IPRE, he was already there. _I’ll be damned if that’s the only reason I stay_.

 

Davenport looked down at the letters in his hand, all from home. He tore one open and read it. He had never noticed the limited vocabulary or the monotony of tone in a letter from home before. Now, that’s all he could see. With a new lens, he could see how they could be perceived as simple.

 

A spark of fury went off in his stomach and he tore the letter up, dumping the fragments in a nearby trash can.

  


Davenport ordered heeled shoes from the uniform shop, to make him closer to dwarf height. Dwarves are taken seriously. His facial hair went untrimmed, and a mustache and beard start to develop, a sign of a man. Men are taken seriously. Davenport studies even harder and claws his way to the top of his class. Along the way he makes friends. Well, he makes connections, not friends.

Birthdays pass without him inquiring about a leave. Candle nights’ come and go without him taking the holiday to rest. There is a stash of letters hidden under his bed, he was too ashamed to read them but felt too guilty throwing them away. That box collects dust on its simple wood finish.

 

The stereotype deteriorated around Davenport. Gnomes weren’t simple or lazy. He was a beacon for his kind. Proud, driven, and fiercely intelligent.

 

On graduation day, Davenport dressed in the crimson uniform issued to him by the IPRE. Pride swelled in his chest as he thought about how far he’s come and what his future held. He would graduate and continue on to become a pilot and a researcher of the Prime Material plane and the Arcana plane.

 

As he stepped out of his dorm, he was greeted by a swarm of parents grouped together with their children. Every graduate had a pair with them, cooing at them, telling them they’re so proud. Davenport walked with his head held high despite the pit in his stomach. He walked to the ceremony alone, surrounded by laughs and ‘moms and ‘dads.

 

Afterwards, he went back to his room. This room was different from the one he started off in years ago. With every level, every accomplishment, he was moved to a bigger room with a better view. This room was at the top of the dorm building, spacious and a single. No roommate to bother with his late nights. But the letters were in the same place. Davenport sat on the floor in front of his bed and read through each and every letter he had ignored.

 

The older ones were filled with day to day things, shopping and what his mother’s friends said. As more time passed between the letters, they became more summary than detailed accounts of life. Most of them were dull and Davenport almost stopped reading.

 

He found a letter, recent enough that it hadn’t started to yellow. When he opened it, he saw a picture of his parents smiling with a new child in their hands and Davenport stopped breathing. The back read:

 

**_Meet your new baby brother!_ **

 

_I have a brother…_ Davenport stood up, letters and pictures falling from his lap as he went to his dresser. He opened the bottom drawer and rummaged through the pants inside. He found that small oak box. As he climbed the ladder he moved it from room to room. Less care was given to the box. He tossed it in his bag to move then set it on his night stand, then his dresser. Finally in his dresser under his clothes.

 

He opened the box and it began plinking out the tune of his mother and Davenport hummed along with it.


	3. Chapter 3

“Is everything ready, Captain Davenport?” 

 

Davenport checked all the systems, everything was running at full capacity. They were trying a new fuel, a new method. There was a seal on their reality, closing it off from the other planes. Davenport just needed to break that seal. Once he did, he’d be able to explore the surrounding planes of their system. Though, they haven’t been able to find a fuel powerful enough to take them through the seal. 

 

This fuel was made out of pure arcane energy. It took almost every magic wielder in the IPRE to fill the tank.  _ This isn’t sustainable, we’d never be able to travel on this. _

 

“Yes, everything ready to go.” He said back, sitting back in his chair and buckling in.  “Start the countdown.”  

 

“Initiating take off in 10,”

 

Davenport took in a deep breath. This was their best chance.

 

“9,”

 

They’ve tried every other fuel in existence.

 

“8,”

 

What else could work?

 

“7,” 

 

Davenport let out his breath and gripped the controls tighter.

 

“6,”

 

This was it.

 

“5, 4, 3, 2, 1, lift off.”

 

Davenport hit the gas as hard as possible, pulling the controls up and flying into the sky.  He had to admit, this engine was fast, he broke through the atmosphere in record time. He was in space in minutes. And once he was out of the gravitational pull, he turned up the pressure on the fuel gauge, flooding the engine before punching the accelerator.

 

The ship lurched forward in a sudden jump. He felt his skin pull backward, his stomach had to catch up with the rest of him later. A tingle of excitement rushed within him. Davenport could see the small threads of lights and bonds. He was going fast enough to see them. Maybe it’ll be able to break them.

 

“Captain, you’ve got to slow down, you’ll run out of fuel.” The voice made him jump, and the words angered him. 

 

“Just a little faster! A little faster and we’ll be able to break through!”

 

The Director’s voice came through. “Davenport you’ll be stranded! Slow down now!” 

 

Her voice snapped him back into reality. Davenport yanked back the break, he would have fallen forward if he wasn’t strapped in so tightly. The ship slowed to a drift, he could hear the sighs of relief over the com.

 

“Good work, Captain. You’re only a billion miles out, come back now and we’ll go on to the next option.”

 

Davenport started to shake. This excursion took years to plan, hundreds of hours in manpower, so much  _ effort _ was put into five measly minutes of fruitless launch. He let out a scream as he hammered his fists into the steering console. He didn’t know how many more theories he could try before the Institute stopped funding him. He didn’t know how he could possibly tear a hole through the very fabric of reality. As his tantrum died, the director came on the com again.

 

“I’m sorry, Captain… Just head back and we’ll think of something else.”

 

He sighed. “Just… Give me a minute…”

 

“Alright…”

 

Davenport turned everything off besides life support, and even that was on its lowest running speed. He unbuckled himself. Gravity’s bonds were weaker in space. Nothing pulled him down once he released himself. Davenport allowed himself to float upward and towards the middle of his ship. His joints and nerves didn’t hurt as they did on planet. He was weightless, lite, and calm. He closed his eyes and just sat, allowing himself to feel adrift. 

 

_ I have to come up with something else.  Maybe we need something that's on the same level as the fabric of the reality? Even something smaller? Do we need to use the fabric of reality to break it? We need to harness the power of those threads binding reality together. _

 

Davenport’s eyes snapped open. He had it.

  
  


Davenport worked tirelessly on his new theory, draining his energy and his patience. His short fuse went off due to the simplest things, his coffee being too cold, his coffee being too hot, the cafeteria only having green grapes instead of red. His terrible moods were starting to spread to his assistants. 

 

“Captain Davenport is  _ so _ stressed.”

 

“He threw his mug at the wall yesterday. What the hell is wrong with him?”

 

“Davenport is such a  _ dick _ . I can’t wait to get my credit hours and leave.”

 

Merle Highchurch had been at the institute for years and only ever heard of Captain Davenport; a gnome who climbed his way through the ranks and became one of the brightest researchers in the Institute. Merle was only one of the many biology professors and researchers, there was no reason for them to cross paths, as much as Merle might have wanted to.

 

All the gossip made Merle uncomfortable, Davenport was a key figure in the development of the IPRE and they were treating him as if he was just another annoying boss. Though, Merle had to agree, when the captain knocked his steak on the ground because it was “too well done”, it did seem a bit much. An idea came to mind, and he had to get the Director's permission first. 

 

When Merle approached Davenport, he had set up at a table by the coffee machine. Papers and books were scattered across the surface, covering every inch. Davenport didn't look up at him. 

 

“Hey, buddy, how's it hanging?”

 

He looked up slowly, prying himself away from his book. “Oh, Professor Highchurch, how are you?”

 

Merle laughed, helping himself to a seat across from Davenport. “Call me Merle. Professor Highchurch was my father.”

 

“I thought your father was a minister?”

 

“He was, that was...” Merle shook his head. “Never mind. Anyways, I spoke with the director about organizing a trip to the beach next week for the senior staff. ‘Cause you know, it's summer, the kids need a break,  _ we  _ certainly need a break,” Merle laughed again, to get any sort of response from Davenport. 

 

Davenport was unamused. 

 

“But I was wondering if you'd come along. It'll be fun! We’ll sit on the sand, drink a little, maybe meet a few babes. It'll just be a great chance to let your hair down.”

 

Davenport looked down and tapped his fingers on the table. Merle could see the bags under his eyes and his fiery hair had strands of premature silver. 

 

“I don't know, Merle, I've got-”

 

“Dav, you know you need a break.”

 

A chill ran down Davenport's spine. It had been years since someone had called him Dav. It had been years since someone was informal towards him. His face felt hot and he noticed the kindness, the worry in Merle's eyes. 

 

“Yeah… you're right.”

 

The beach trip was to last a week. A week without work or responsibilities. Davenport wasn't sure how he was going to fair. His life had been the IPRE for so long, he wasn't sure he knew how to relax. 

 

Davenport packed newly bought swim trunks and tank tops in a small suitcase. There was a pool in the fitness building but he never stepped foot anywhere near it. This would be his first time swimming in years, it would be his first time outside of the institute in years.

 

There was a knock on his door that made him jump.

 

“Come in.” He called.

 

Merle opened the door, grinning. He had on a shirt with palm leaves that covered just enough of the fabric to make the yellow background pop out in between the green, he was already wearing his sunglasses, and everything from his mid thigh was visible.

 

“You ready, Dav?”

 

Davenport’s face burned as he tried not to look at Merle or his blindingly pale legs. “Yeah, just a second.” He zipped up his bag and threw it over the shoulder. “Alright, so what’s the plan?” 

 

“Well, we’re in Glenn’s car and boy is that guy a speed demon. So we’ll be there in like 3 hours.” Merle said.

 

Davenport made his way over to him. “Okay, what are we going to do when we get there? Are we going to get food on the way? Are you sure we have a reservation? Do we want to see a show? Do we just want to sit on the beach? Do we-”

 

Merle clapped his hands on his shoulders. “Dav, you gotta calm down. We’ll go with the flow. We’ll see what we want to do, we’ll see what we can do to get all this stress outta ya.”

 

“But-”

 

“But nothing. I won’t let you do any stressing. We’re gonna get you to relax, no matter what. Okay?”

 

“...Okay…”

  
  
  


Nothing worked. Every little thing they tried only irritated Davenport more. He flinched at every touch by a masseuse. He hit the balls too hard for golf. He stirred through every street performance and lost interest in any arcade games. He even seemed frustrated with the food they ate. 

 

Merle wasn't angry, it took a lot for him to get angry. But he was getting there. At the end of the day, he laid a towel on the sand and sat Davenport down. 

 

“We're doing something that relaxes  _ me  _ now,” Merle said, sitting down next to him. He reached for the picnic basket he brought and pulled out a wine bottle and two glasses. He poured one for himself and Davenport. 

 

The suns were setting, burnt oranges bleeding into pinks. Purples outlining and consuming both suns. The Suns set one at a time. The left sinking slower than the right. 

 

Merle watched the suns set with a calm yet intense stare. There was a content smile just on his lips. Davenport watched Merle's expression, studying every line of his face and admiring the subtle movements of awe he made as the colors shifted further. 

 

Davenport caught himself staring and looked away to his wine, swirling it in his glass. He couldn't allow himself to get distracted. Not with a fellow staff member. Especially not with a staff member who was on the short list for his future crew, if he ever got a crew. 

 

“You know, I've always admired you,” Davenport's head snapped up in shock. Merle didn't look over to him. “You’ve been with the IPRE for years and you're so  _ driven.  _ There's something amazing about the way you work. I was straight out of college when I came to the Institute and day one I knew your name… I've looked up to you for years and… now here we are.”

 

Davenport was speechless. There were no words for how flattered he was. How  _ astonished  _ he was. He knew his name meant something but he never felt the gravity of it. 

 

“Davenport would you…” Merle trailed off, pushing his finger around the edge of his glass. He had an idea but he didn't have enough wine to justify it and with a peek over to Davenport's glass, he knew neither had he. “Never mind.”

 

And the suns were gone. Twilight brushed the sky and the stars began to fade into the newly transparent expanse. Davenport stood up, stretching his back and legs. He waited for a moment until Merle looked up. 

 

“Where are you going?” Merle asked him. “We just got to the good part.”

 

A smile grew on Davenport's face. He too wanted to watch the night sky. Davenport laid down without thinking, staring up at the stars above him. He didn't flinch when Merle decided to lay down as well, maybe a little too close for this to be strictly causal. 

 

As time ticked by and dusk melted away into black, Davenport felt relaxed, falling asleep where he was. 

  
  


The beach trip helped Davenport in multiple ways.  He gained a friend in Merle, a genuine friend. Davenport assumed he was an introvert, shutting himself away from people so he could “focus on work”. It was an excuse for him to close himself off from people, from attachment and emotion. Spending time with Merle made him realize how much he enjoyed socializing. Getting out every once in awhile allowed him time to breathe and regroup.

 

He also found a method of winding down by himself. A glass of wine and the night sky. He never really cared for the stars, his focus had always been on what lies beyond the stars. Though, watching them twinkle in and out calmed him.  The stillness was a nice break from the commotion of the Institute. Davenport loved noticing constellations and witnessing shooting stars.

 

He was watching the stars when it came down. It was a blip in the sky until it came barreling down. 

 

Merle was watering his moon drop hibiscus when he saw the streak of magnificent light in the sky, brighter than any shooting star he’s ever seen. 

 

Barry was fiddling with chemicals in his lab when a flash flooded the room with white. 

 

Magnus was training and got distracted, thinking it was a thunderstorm. 

 

The twins were huddled together in the cafe, gossiping about Greg Gremaldis and his gambling problem when a shadow passed in its wake. 

 

Lucretia was finishing the last few pages of the latest book she ghost wrote when she saw a ball of pure light fall right in front of her window.Lucretia stood up suddenly, going to the window and taking a pen and journal for each hand. She watched as she wrote.

  
_ The light fell right in front of my window onto the grass of the quad. I almost run down to grab it before I see Captain Davenport go to it. He picks it up and just stares at it. He stares at it for three long minutes before jogging off _ . _ I can’t wait to find out what happened. _


	4. Chapter 4

It fell only yards away. When Davenport went to it, he felt it's immeasurable weight. It was easy to lift but the pressure on his hands was almost too much to bear. He stared into it, what else could you do with a glowing orb that had fallen from the sky? And as he stared, an equation was written in his mind. He saw it, plain as day as if it had been there the whole time. A combination of magic, math, and sheer force of will and hope, this equation was something he could never have dreamed to come up with. 

 

Davenport raced to his quarters and found the nearest scrap of paper and pen, writing it down as quickly as possible. He couldn’t forget it. He felt sick with joy and excitement. Davenport read it over and over, did the calculations as many times as he possibly could to make sure it was absolutely perfect. The equation to harness the power of every single piece of reality. Davenport felt tears in his eyes. It was so obvious. It was so simple. It was so impossible. 

 

But it wasn't. 

 

"How do I  _ use _ it?" He said to this glowing ball of light. Davenport didn’t know if that was how this thing worked; asking for a favor and it granting. He didn’t ask for the equation. Maybe it was only one answer a person, maybe he already used his wish.

 

His mind raced for a machine that could harness the power of the fabric of the universe. It came to him quicker than he ever thought possible. Davenport took his pen and his largest sheet of paper and started to sketch. 

 

The sun started to rise as Davenport drew out the finishing touches on the design. It was rough and would be hard to build, but the math was there. He should be able to tear a hole in reality itself. Davenport gathered his things and bounced over to the Director's office, almost too excited to bare. He dumped everything in his arms onto her desk, including the light.

 

“I can do this.”

  
  


Davenport wanted to take off within the year, for progress sake. Progress will finally come from his research and his life. He was filled with excitement every day, checking on the engine as much as possible, planning the detailed outline of exactly what they would be doing, and writing personal letters to the crew he had been dreaming of for years, asking for their participation. He had gotten applications, letters, and phone calls from people begging to be one of the first to break out of the prime material plane. But Davenport refused every one of them.

 

Davenport reached out to the promising young scientist, Barry Bluejeans, a stout man who was rising quickly as one of the brightest minds in a generation to study the break in reality and the material differences they’ll find. The fiercest two magic welders he has ever seen, near masters of the arcane arts and the best cooks the institute had, Lup and Taako Taaco would be vital in dissecting the arcane energy in the other planes. A Scrappy 20 something finding his foothold in the institute and the world, Magnus Burnsides fought tooth and nail with steely ambition to be accepted into the institute and will come in handy against any adversary. The best biologist at the institute and someone Davenport had admired for years, Merle Highchurch will be able to examine any plant or biological material to understand the basis of the plane they enter. And Lucretia, a quiet but well-established author that was raised by the institute to chronicle it all twice over with her ambidextrous hands.

 

This project was long anticipated and highly sought after, everyone wanted a spot on this mission. Davenport sent out 6 letters and received 6 in acceptance. Who would say no to  _ this _ ?

 

Months dragged by as the plans came together. They worked tirelessly to get the ship up in the air as soon as possible. The anticipation ate away at Davenport. His dream was finally coming true. 

 

The press conference doesn't go exactly as Davenport wanted, his crew is full of energy and excitement and there was nothing he could do about that. He sat back and watched as the members he hand picked thrived under the attention they were receiving. He even laughed despite the mic dropping and ego stroking. These were his new partners in this endeavor, they would be the only 7 people to see what they’re about to see. They will be the first, and Davenport planned not to be the last.

  
  


Davenport isn't too pleased when Magnus shows up the next morning with a black eye.  _ It’s fine,  _ he told himself. Nothing could ruin this day for him. Davenport was through the roof, too excited, too focused to just look up. 

 

Maybe if he allowed himself to be bothered, he might have looked up. The draining colors and the stillness went ignored. 

 

Nothing felt real that day, why would the faded grass make a difference?

 

They were already in the sky, past the storm, past the atmosphere when the first tendril shot past the deck’s large window. The crew screamed and Davenport swallowed his fear. Tendrils were coming their way, and he had to dodge them. No training could ever have counted towards this. He threads the needle between large inky masses, trying his hardest to get as far away from the mass as quickly and safely as possible.

 

The institute didn’t answer his calls as he barked at the coms, begging them to pick up, for someone to pick up.

 

Nothing prepared him for watching his home get swallowed. Everything he knew was gone in an instant. Unlike Magnus or Lucretia, Davenport didn’t have time to cry, to mourn the death of his home. He had to keep flying. And he kept flying as the space around them started to jiggle, and it took a harder foot on the gas to move through it.

 

And then time stopped. Davenport felt himself shred into billions and billions of pieces. He saw endless versions of himself infinitely in sheer projections in every direction.

 

With a flash, he was whole again. Complete, yet fragmented. He felt as if he had just been sliced into tiny pieces and his skin was the only thing holding him back together. He worried if he moved too quickly, he’d fall apart.

“U-Uh, Cap’n’port?” Magnus called from the window. 

 

Davenport didn’t say anything, he could already see the world below. He felt sick looking down at this new world. It was lush, the continents and oceans weren’t  _ right _ . This was not the world they left, it wasn’t even a reality that included them. 

Davenport flew over, scanning the planet for anything humanoid, anything they could speak to and ask if they’ve experienced the same things they have. 

 

They were so lost. Until the light fell, that is. The light fell and some things started to click. The light fell and there was an eclipse where white eyes filled the sky. The white eyes were all pointing in the same direction. 

 

There was no wonder why Merle wanted to chase the light. Davenport did wonder why Merle asked  _ him _ to explore it with.


	5. Chapter 5

While exploring, they spent every waking hour together, mapping and excavating. Most of the time was spent in silence. Merle was busy chronicling and picking all the new flora, matching the ones he knew, and naming the species he’d never seen before. 

 

Merle plucked a flower from its stem and twirled it between his fingers. “I think I'm out of play on my own name for these plants. There are too many I don’t know.”

 

Davenport snickered, he was sitting a few feet away on a large rock. “What? No more Highdrangeas?”

 

Merle smiled at Davenport’s laugh. “Spelled H-I-G-H-D-R-A-N-G-E-A, it’s completely different from our hydrangeas. These only come in bunches of 4, not dozens.”

 

“Mmhmm.” Davenport hummed, He genuinely didn’t know or care about the differences. But it made Merle happy to talk about them, so he tried his hardest. 

 

Merle spun the flower softer, slower, admiring the colors. They were unusual for a plant, browns and dark blues coiled around each other across the petals. Normal flowers had bright colors to attract pollinators. But this one evolved and thrived some other way, being different, and committed. Merle held the flower up to his captain. 

 

“I think I’ll call these Daven’s Eye,” Merle said, soft and casually. Davenport’s heart stopped. Merle went over to him and showed him inside the bell, how the colors mixed towards the center. “It looks like your eye. Brown and blue mixing together.”

 

Davenport felt his face burn. “Sectoral heterochromia looks better on a flower than it does on me.”

 

Merle rolled his eyes. “I don’t believe that.” He reached up and tucked the flower behind Davenport’s ear, then continued forward, looking for a campsite to rest for the night. Davenport’s knees were too weak to stand up right away.

  
  


At night they sat around the fire, telling stories of their youth. Merle spoke of Pan Camp and the axe-wielding woodsman who he lived with for his teen years. Davenport told him about his mother, his father, and the brother he never knew. He told him he used to sing in the school choir. 

 

Merle wanted to ask about his brother, about his family. But he knew better.

 

“Would you sing for me?” Merle asked, and it brought Davenport back into the present, realizing where he was.

 

Davenport was sitting by the fire, on a planet he didn’t know, in a reality, he wasn’t a part of, with his biologist and medic, whose head was in his lap, and his own fingers had been tangled in his hair for probably hours. It was a realization that felt so natural. Months ago, he never would have dreamed of being this close, emotionally or physically, with Merle. And now, it would have been strange if they were five feet away if his hands weren’t tangled in Merle’s hair if he did have the strongest urge to kiss him.

 

“What?” Davenport asked, not processing what Merle had just said.

 

“You said you used to sing in a choir, and I’m sick of listening to the crickets. I wanna hear you sing.”

 

Davenport blushed, stuttering bit, trying to come up with an excuse to not start singing.

 

Merle reached up and slid his hand to cup Davenport’s cheek. “You don’t have to if you’re uncomfortable, Dav.”

 

“I just… Haven’t really felt like singing in… A while…” Davenport felt Merle’s thumb brush against his cheek. His calloused hands were rough against his skin, prickling more than soothing. “But maybe... here… Now…” Davenport felt himself lean in and Merle was smiling up at him.

 

“I’m warning you, captain, if you kiss me, I might fall in love with you,” Merle said softly.

 

Merle arched into the kiss, meeting Davenport half way. It was a simple, sweet. In this moment, that’s all Davenport wanted.

  
  


It was hard to leave Magnus behind. He was a vital member of their group, a well-loved member of their group. How were they going to go on without him? How were they going to explain to the institute when they got back? How are they going to fair with six of them instead of seven?

 

In that moment, Davenport accepted he was going to have to make all the hard decisions. The ones no one else wanted to make. If he hadn’t pulled up when he did, they would be consumed by the blackness and all seven of them would be gone instead of just Magnus. 

 

Davenport started to plan Magnus’ obituary as they pierced through the barrier again and entered the jelly like space. He was peeled into shreds again, frozen again. And when they entered their new reality and were put back together, Davenport heard a shout of joy.

 

“Magnus!” Lucretia had yelled. Davenport’s head snapped behind him. Standing behind him in the flesh was Magnus, same strong body, same black eye as a year ago. He raised his hands to his face, examining his own body in disbelief. And then, his same wide, crooked smile.

 

“Magnus is back!”


	6. Chapter 6

Fungston was made for gnomes. Gnomes and Dwarves were the inhabitants of this world and the moment Davenport stepped foot off the ship, he felt a weight in his chest. He hadn’t been surrounded by this many gnomes since-

 

_ Home _ , He thought. The village looked so much like home.

 

The group that met them, was a group of gnomes. Davenport could look them in their eyes as he spoke, no looking up to them. With Davenport as the Captain, they were accepted instantly. They were welcomed like honored guest. The villagers impressed by the humans and elves in the crew.

 

“We’ve only heard about humans and elves,” They told the crew. “They died off when the mushrooms took over… We thought they were myths.”

 

“Well, I mean, we are  _ legendary _ ,” Lup said, leaning an elbow on her brother.

 

“Yeah, I don’t think anyone else can do what we do,” Taako said. The twins snickered.

 

Davenport sighed, he tried to only tell the locals about their travels when absolutely necessary. This was not necessary. 

  
  


Within a few days, the light fell and it took months to retrieve it. The village was heartbroken when Magnus didn’t come back with them. They insisted on giving him a ceremony, something to honor him. 

 

“No, there’s no need, he-” Davenport couldn’t tell them he died all the time, he’s died before, and will probably die again. They were rooted in one reality, they only had one Magnus. And their Magnus had died. 

 

The crew dressed in their uniforms, a bright crimson in the sea of black from the villagers. A member of the scorch team that came with them to get the light, the one who found him, lead the service. A traditional gnome funeral. Celebrated speeches about the deceased, songs, and dance.

 

Davenport was watching the dancing and singing from afar. It felt wrong celebrating Magnus’ life when it was far from over.

 

Until a hand was held out to him. The child who initiated the literal pissing contest with Magnus was holding their hand out to him with a mournful look on their face.

 

“Come on, Captain, we gotta be happy he lived, not sad that he’s gone.” They said as tear began to bubble out of him. “We’ve gotta celebrate him.”

 

Davenport’s heart melted. How could he say no?

 

Davenport took their hand and they squeezed it tight as they pulled him into the circle. His feet began to move on their own, remembering the steps to the dance as if he had just rehearsed them yesterday. The lyrics came to him just as easily. With every word, every step, Davenport sank back into a part of him that he hadn’t explored for years.

 

The child was grinning with tears still streaming down their face as Davenport spun them around and lead  _ them _ in a dance that takes years to learn. They watched his feet and Davenport sang along to the music. It was a fast song, the song of joy, it was always Davenport’s favorite. He loved the change of staying in time with his words and his feet. 

 

_ I’m so glad we have the light… This world will be spared… We’ll save them… _

  
  


“I want to stay with the congregation,” Merle said to Davenport the day they saw the inky blackness take over the sky. The rest of the crew was heading into the Star Blaster. Davenport stopped in his tracks and looked at Merle. 

 

“You haven’t died yet, Merle, why would you-”

 

“There’s no way that I can justify leaving them with the darkness descending… After spending a year trying to build their faith? I can’t just do that, Dav.”

 

“I’m not suggesting you-”

 

Merle looked Davenport in the eye. “I wish you’d stay with me. You’ve gotten close to a bunch of them. Why don’t you come to the cathedral with me? Stay with them, us, till the end?”

 

Davenport swallowed. “I’m the only one who can fly the ship, Merle. I can’t. I would love to stay…” He grabbed Merle’s hand and squeezed it, pressing their foreheads together. “Next time, okay? Next time I’ll stay with you.”

 

Merle stole a quick kiss. “Next time.”

 

Davenport was smiling. “Go to your congregation.” Merle squeezed his hand one more time and left.

 

_ I’ll have to teach Barry how to fly the ship,  _ he thought.

  
  


Davenport pulled out the wine, dusting off the label. It was a bottle he had brought from home, he was saving it for when they returned, for the end of a successful mission. But after near three decades, he realized they might never return, never end this mission. That weight on his heart made him glad they had this year, just to sit and breathe on the beach.

 

He changed into his swimsuit and a tank top, taking his wine and a towel onto the beach, right by the water. He spread the towel right above the line where the ocean reached and sat himself down there. Davenport took this time to remember the beach trip he took all those years ago with Merle and rest of the senior staff. The laughter and the bonds generated came back in waves, making Davenport smile at what seemed like nothing. He took a sip of his wine for every time he thought back to him and Merle, circling each other. He took a sip for every time he thought of an acquaintance he had forgotten. He took a sip for every time the memory was too much.

 

“MAGNUS!”

 

Davenport jumped and he launched his glass of wine into the ocean. His heart beat out of his chest. He snapped his head around to look at Magnus with an evil grin on his face.

 

“M-! What the f- Why?! That was… That was-”

 

“You gotta be ready!” Magnus was giggling as he fled the scene.

 

Davenport wheezed as he held his chest, trying to calm himself.

 

“Ey, wanna pour me some?” 

 

He looked up and saw Merle, standing above him, holding out a red plastic cup. When Davenport didn’t move, Merle sat down next to him. 

“Come on, we can share the cup. I know you like your cheval blanc in crystal but I think you just gave our last wine glass to poseidon.”

 

Davenport let out a hard breath and slumped onto his arm. He took the solo cup from his hands and poured a large portion into it. They sat and watched the sunset, passing the cup between each other. 

 

Merle’s cut caught  Davenport’s attention.

 

“You might wanna use some magic to heal that. It might get infected.”

 

“Nah, it’s the beach episode, no one dies.”


	7. Chapter 7

Davenport wished he had taken advantage of the free time on the beach. Tesseralia was lonely without Merle. He had free rein, sure, and for the first few weeks he spent time outside of the First Monastery but as his studies went on, he took less time away and devoted most of his life to his work. 

 

Davenport didn’t feel abandoned or forgotten, but he did feel left behind. His crew had beautiful opportunities in Tesseralia, Magnus hand his sport, Taako and Lup had the food, Barry always went with them, Lucretia had an entire world to journal, and Merle of course had his training. There was nothing really for Davenport. 

 

He thought it’d be over after this year, only a year of loneliness. And then, Merle learns how to Parlay. The Captain in him is proud that Merle goes in and out without a thought, face to face with their enemy. But the part of him who deeply cares about Merle and his presence, dreads every moment that ticks by between cycles. It was hard only having a fraction of his crew. Not to mention missing the glue, the hope, of their family.

 

When Merle was stitched together at the beginning of a new cycle, Davenport got into a habit of smashing auto pilot as quickly as possible and running to him, wrapping his arms around him as tight as possible. He always had the urge to beg him to stay, for a cycle. Only one. Davenport knew better, though. Merle saw this as his contribution to the end of the hunger and there was no stopping him. But there was always a possibility of delaying him. 

 

One year he came back and they all begged him to stay for at least a day. 

 

“Merle you’ve got to give us more time to  _ talk _ about this.”

 

“We  _ miss _ you.”

 

“Yeah, it’s been quiet without your shitty dad jokes.”

 

Merle agreed and they talked about the meeting. Then, they just spent time together, as a family. Merle wanted to play a tabletop game, so they pulled out a game they could all play. Taako got too excited and flipped the board, whether it was genuine anger or a show, it made Merle laugh. Davenport noticed a smile on Taako’s face when Merle started cracking up. Magnus and Barry took Merle aside to talking to him about “strategies”.  The conversation quickly melted into a casual, relaxed one, no more talk of John or the Hunger. Davenport would say they got side tracked if he didn’t know that’s exactly what they wanted. Lucretia showed Merle her sketches of him in Parlay.  _ “That’s really good! I look so cool!” _ . Lup had made his favorite dish, a dwarven specialty right from his region. 

 

The ship stayed awake for as long as they could. Lup and Taako fell asleep on the couch together while Magnus was hunched over the table. Lucretia and Barry retired when they could no longer keep their eyes open. Davenport was sitting across from Merle as he stood up, groaning and stretching. 

 

“Well, I guess I should go in for another, ey Captain?” Merle wasn’t really asking. He bent backward to crack his back and then turned, his back to Davenport as he started towards the cushion he used for Parlay. 

 

Merle was held back, his hand was grabbed and he felt Davenport press his forehead against his back. 

 

“Stay with me tonight. Please?” Davenport squeezed his hand even harder. “I miss you. I don’t want you to go… Not yet…”

 

Merle’s heart beat faster, his breathing became shallow. He felt the warmth of Davenport behind him. John might have felt attached to his human form in Parlay, but Merle certainly didn’t. He didn’t realize how starved for touch he was, he didn’t realize exactly how much he missed Davenport. His touched burned and Merle wanted more of it.

 

 “Yeah, I’ll stay with ya, Cap'n.”

 

Merle ran his hands through Davenport’s hair, the bright sun of the world they've entered glaring bright into his eyes. Davenport leaned into it and smiles a sleepy smile, he could see the vague outline of Merle through the rays of sun, he looked heavenly. Davenport felt Merle kiss him on the forehead.

  
  


"I'll see you next year, my captain."

 

Davenport lays his head back down for what feels like a moment until he hears the line replay in his head.  _ I’ll see you next year, my captain. _ He jolts up and runs out of bed, only pulling up a pair of underpants before going to the ship’s helm. 

 

He finds Merle, back in Parlay, just an astral outline, floating above a small pillow.

 

Lucretia was sitting in front of him, something she always does. She always watches him for at least a day to make sure everything goes well. She’s looking up at him, as hopeless as Davenport.

 

“He went in a few hours ago… He never says goodbye..." 

 

Davenport sits down with Lucretia. He wanted to keep an eye on him too.


	8. Chapter 8

"So they're not in there?” Davenport asks. It had been a few cycles since Merle had been in Parlay. It was evident they knew all they were going to about the Hunger for the time being. “ ... You know... What Lup said? About getting her $15 back? Her speech, her sureness her determination gave me a sliver of hope…” Merle sat up and put his book down. 

 

“Dav, what are you talking about?” Merle asked.

 

“I let go of logic and reason for just a moment... and I let myself believe my parents might have still been in there. They might be alive. I might see them again. But now, after meeting John... They're a part of him now.  I have to mourn them a second time" 

  
  


Davenport paused, he felt his heart sink suddenly and he caught the sobs in his throat. Merle had gotten up and was already next to him. 

 

“Come on, what’s bringing this up all of the sudden?” Merle wrapped his arms around Davenport’s shoulder.

 

"I should I have died with them. I should I have been there with them. I...spent all my life trying to leave them behind ... And now that I've done it... I just want them back...I should have gone home for candle nights, called them back, I should have met my brother…” 

 

Merle was dumbstruck, he had never seen his captain like this, a complete wreck. In over thirty years, he had never had such a breakdown before. They sat there for hours, Davenport crying on and off. 

 

“I just miss home so much…” Davenport whispered.

 

“I know… I do too…” Merle felt Davenport grip his shirt harder, pulling himself closer.

 

“I’m sorry for doing this to you.” 

 

Merle looked down it him. “What?”

 

“I’m sorry I cursed you… You’re doomed to relive the apocalypse year after year. I’m so sorry, I should have seen the signs… I should have seen something was wrong…”

 

Frustration boiled in Merle’s stomach. “And what if you had, Dav? What if you saw the pale grass and the colorless sky? What if you knew that something went wrong? What were you going to do? Were you going to throw away your life's work? And what if you had? You would have been part of the hunger. You would have been swallowed like the rest of them. But you didn't. You didn't give up your dream and now we're here. We're here and we're the universe's only shot. Captain Davenport you might be the sole reason the universe is saved. Don't regret that. Don't forget that. Don't  _ ignore _ that for the sake of self pity.”

 

Davenport sat up, mouth slightly agape. He was speechless, there was nothing else he could add, he couldn’t dispute that. Merle’s face softened.

 

“And your parents would be proud of you, for that. You became the reason why the rest of existence has a shot. If they knew, and they’re apart of John, so of course they know, they would understand and they would forgive you. I’m sure of it.”

 

Every weight lifted itself from Davenport’s heart at once and more emotion poured in.

 

Davenport pounced on Merle, engulfing him in the tightest embrace he could muster. 

 

“I love you, Merle. Thank you.”

  
  
  


“Maybe you should join the art conservatory.” Barry offered. “You like… Paint and stuff, right?”

 

“No, the Captain would kill it at an instrument. Need a lot of discipline for the flute.” Lup said.

 

“Maybe you should join me at the dance academy,” Merle smirked and nudged Davenport with his elbow. “Lord knows you’re flexible enough.”

 

“Gross,” Lucretia said. She turned to Davenport. “I think you should trying singing. I’ve heard you sing under your breath, maybe you can hone that skill in.”

 

Davenport’s stomach twisted. “I haven’t sang seriously for years, Lucretia, I don’t think I’ll be able to compare to these students who have been training for years.”

 

“It’s not about comparing,” Magnus said. “It’s about getting better at something you’re interested in.”

 

Davenport took a deep breath in. “I guess I’ll go to the Opera conservatory.”

 

When Davenport first enters the School Of Opera, he is placed in a near beginners class. They were learning how to strengthen their voice and how to read music. His days in his own school came back to him quickly, and he pulled himself up and out of the beginner levels. Davenport had always been good at climbing ladders and studying too hard. But this world had an expiration date, and Davenport needed to grow from mediocre to magnificent. 

 

After a few months, he received a private professor. A long elven woman with the sweetest voice Davenport had ever heard picked him from his class. She was strict yet kind and always wore her hair in a tight bun.

 

“You know,” She said as they walked to her private class room. “Many aren’t happy we’re choosing your crew in place of other pupils.”

 

“That doesn’t surprise me, Professor Halwin…” Davenport said.

 

She didn’t look down at him, not even once. “Our reputations are on the line, Captain.”

 

“I’m sure they are.”

 

“Your song  _ must be  _ the best one broadcasted since Eleanor Jefferson.”

 

“Yes, ma’am.”

 

“Have you started thinking about ideas for your song?”

 

Davenport stopped. “I have to write my own?”

 

Halwin paused as well, looking back at him. “This will be a long year, Davenport.”

 

At first, Davenport couldn’t scratch out a tune or a lyric. Nothing made him want to sing, nothing gave him the urge. And then, a small tune got stuck in his head. He didn’t know where it came from, maybe a similar note was being played on an instrument or sung by someone on the quad. But his mother’s melody resurfaced in his mind. From that moment, Davenport poured his heart out into every lyric and note, all in a minor key, and all in gnomish. 

 

In the song, Davenport begs forgiveness. He begs his mother, his father, his planet to forgive him. Late at night, he would be hunched over his desk, humming to himself as he writes the lyrics. He feels hot tears in his eyes and the mixture of sadness and anger within himself just fueled his creative process.

 

And the day comes where he has to perform, they all have to perform. Davenport watched Magnus place his duck on the pedestal and the small flash that came from it. He sat back and watched Merle’s dance and wondered why he had chosen this man to love. 

 

Then it was his turn to perform. He straightened his back up and swallowed every fear. His mind was clear as he started with the small, simple tune of his mother. Through the song, it changed, it was distorted and twisted. Davenport hit every accidental and every harmony. He deconstructed the melody, until the end, where it came back together into the simple, five note melody that lulled him to sleep as a child.

 

He was nervous. He was so nervous as he waited the second between the end and the audience’s reaction. The crowd stood in thunderous applause, screaming and whistling. With a small smile Davenport bowed, placed his sheet music on the stand, and walked off stage. He shook as he sat down next to Merle in the front row. 

 

Merle grinned and nudged him with his elbow. “You did really well, Dav. I’m proud of you.”

 

Davenport managed a smile and took Merle’s hand. “You too.”

  
  


Panic filled Davenport when he couldn’t find Lucretia. His head was spinning. The rest of them were here, with no ship, no way out. As his crew began to run their mouths, Davenport just put his head in his hands.

 

_ This ship went down… Is this it? Will this be our last cycle? Is the universe doomed? _

 

“Davenport. Your even temperament has been sullied with rage and denial over the difficulties you have faced during your journey here. Your past sin is wrath. How do you plead?”

 

Davenport raised his head, swallowing the spark of the very wrath they were referring to. He looked up at them, head shaking, and arms dangling in defeat.

 

“Have we not… earned a little wrath? Given what we’ve been through, we haven’t earned that?”

 

They didn’t respond to him, his plea for validation, and maybe even forgiveness. They asked about Lucretia and it became clear, they knew about her, but it would be best to keep her as hidden as possible. But when Taako confirmed her existence, Davenport felt dread more than anything else. They were going to go after her. They were going to try her like they did with them. She was a clever girl, she could make it, she could be proven innocent, right?

 

“Davenport, Lup, and Magnus Burnsides, our Providence has witnessed your past deeds and found you wanting.”

 

Davenport’s chest sank even more. He would spend this cycle trapped in a jail cell, wondering if he was going to make it out, if this world was going to make it, if the universe was going to make it. 

 

The sound of Magnus hardening was horrific. It sounded like bones crunching and cracking, popping out of their sockets and snapping in half. Davenport could almost feel the dust within him start to harden just looking at Magnus.

 

_ Their providence sees the future that will happen, they see what’s going to happen despite their actions… Without us… Without the Star Blaster… They’re doomed… and they think they’re saving themselves.  _ Davenport didn’t bother getting angry, they were going to do what they were going to do.

 

  
“Your path leads to indescribable destruction. Much of it will come at your own hands.”   
  
“You will face choices with terrible outcomes, choices no one should be allowed to make.”   
  
“Your path leads to the end of our providence. We don’t know why.”   
  
“Your path is your own, but our providence has touched your futures. The six of you will fall short of glories, so it is known and so it has always been known, our judgement is decided.”

 

The tightening was quick. The air was squeezed from Davenport, he felt his last breath, and then nothing. 

  
  


The ship was rough looking, Lucretia was rough looking. Davenport went to her as she sobbed and laughed and gave her a long hug. “You’ve done good, Lucretia. You’ve done real good.”

 

She buried her face into his shoulder, gripping his jacket. 

 

“I missed you all so much, Captain.”

 

“We’re here now, we’re not going anywhere.”

  
  


Davenport picked every illusion book from every shelf he could find. Ever since he entered the institute, he allowed his magic to suffer. His magical abilities, though not tailored, were fierce. An invitation came from the institute, offering him a position on their Plane Of Magic research team, but once he arrived, he found a new love in the sciences and the flight program. Throughout the years, though, with the hunger being an enemy like no other, Davenport had been left without a hope of escaping, surviving on the backs of his crew alone. He was done feeling hopeless, done feeling like he couldn't contribute.  He took his year to develop his magic into something more. 

 

Illusion had always intrigued Davenport. Illusion fooled the mind and bought time. It also created imagery otherwise trapped in the mind. Something about it was more art than anything else. But Davenport assumed everyone thinks their concentration is art. 

  
  
  


Merle was tending to the small garden he had created on the ship, giving each plant its own special routine to replicate it's home world's environment.  The door behind him opened up, pulling his attention away from the plants. 

 

Davenport came up beside him and linked their arms together, holding his tight and leaning his head shoulder on Merle's. Merle smiled and kissed his temple. Davenport often came to watch him work with the plants. 

 

“How are you doing, Cap’n?” Merle asked, voice low and soft. His free hand working small amounts of magic to add humidity to the around the flower. 

 

Davenport didn't answer right away, burying his face into Merle's shoulder and taking his hand into his own.  He squeezed his hand and Merle squeezed back. 

 

“I've got something to show you,” Davenport said. 

 

“What is it?”

 

“Just come see it.”

 

Davenport uncurled himself from Merle's arm but kept his hand, pulling him towards the exit. He pulled Merle through the ship, slow, as if not in a hurry. Merle's never seen Davenport not in a hurry. 

 

“You seem relaxed,” 

 

Davenport smiled. 

 

“Illusion magic is relaxing,”

 

“I thought you said it was maddening?”

 

“That too,”

 

Davenport pulled Merle away from the ship, walking for about a mile away, until Merle spotted a red point behind the trees that wasn't there days before. 

 

“Is that it?”

 

Davenport didn't look back at Merle, but he started talking. “I wanted you to be the first one to see it. It's important to me for you to see it first.”

 

Merle noticed a far off look in his eye, a happy look, but his mind was not present.  

 

The trees parted and they came upon a house, the roof red and the body yellow. The shutters were a dark blue and the front door matched the color of the roof. The colors looked juvenile to Merle but Davenport looked so proud, he couldn't bring himself to say anything against it.

 

“Oh… it's…”

 

“It's my childhood home,” Davenport said, pride dripping from his voice. 

 

Merle was taken aback. “Your childhood home? Really?” 

 

Davenport looked back at him, beaming. “it has everything from my last visit. Everything I remember.”

 

“This is spectacular! Can we go in?”

 

“Completely.”

 

Davenport lead Merle into his home, pointing out small details he tried to capture perfectly. The table legs weren’t even, so it sat at an angle. There were baby pictures plastered all over the walls. There was a stain on the carpet right next to the stairs from when Davenport spilled his juice. Davenport brought Merle to his old room, opening the door to the moment he left his room. It was a mess, clothes and bedding everywhere, a window with the moon in it although it was daylight outside. 

 

Davenport’s smile turned into a bitter sweet version of its formal self, excitement turned to melancholy. “Illusions… Living memories…” He said, not taking his eyes off his room. “I’m… afraid if I go to the back room my parents will be there. I didn’t make them, consciously, but I didn’t realize I made actual cookies in the cookie jar either.”

 

“Do you want to go home, Dav?” Merle asked and Davenport flinched.

 

_ This is my home…  _  He knew Merle meant the ship, the ship had been his home longer than this house, even longer than the Institute. But it was still metal and cold and didn’t make him feel warm like a home. 

 

“Yeah… I think so.”

  
  


In the middle of their daily yooker game, Davenport’s head snapped up. “Holy shit… I think it's my birthday. I… guess we got to start… I guess we gotta start caring about stuff like that again.”

  
Merle snickered, nudging his foot. “What are you, like, 130, 140?”   
  
“Yeah, I don’t know, do we count those years? I- I certainly didn’t age during that- Jesus, Merle! We’re going to get older now!” Davenport laughed, the thought was almost comical. They would actually start to aged, they’d grey, they’d wrinkle. The grey patched that would always spring up as the the cycle went on would become permanent. No new body every year. Davenport looked up at Merle who seemed unaffected. “Do you- do you think we’ll be able to have normal lives after this? Nobody’s ever had a life like ours, there’s no...rule book. I don’t even know where to begin.”

 

  
Merle scoffed, folding his hand, face down, so Davenport couldn’t see. “Why would you want a normal life? Normal lives… suck!”

  
He laughs.  _ Impractical, brash. _ Davenport opened his mouth to ask “Even a normal life with me?” but he was cut off.

 

“Like, this game, we play this game, we just sit here. It’s just a way to kill time! C’mon, Skipper, you don’t want to just kill time all the time!”

Davenport shifted uncomfortably. He never thought about a normal life, it was never something he wanted either. “I know, I just- How do you wanna live, Merle? Like, I don’t have a- this mission has been my life for a century. I don’t know what I want to do….”

 

  
“You wanna know what I’d like to do?” Davenport nodded. “I’d like to move to the beach. You know why? Because with the ocean, the scenery is always changin’. And I want the scenery to always be changin’, man. I don’t wanna be lookin’ at the same thing all the time… I wanna see a million, billion shells… I wanna watch rain come sweepin’ in… That’s, that’s the life, right there! Change it up, man! Keep it interesting!”

 

  
Davenport drops his cards, patches of static started to line his eyes, blur his vision. He starts blinking, fast, and wiping his eyes. He’s looking around, he's panting. 

 

“Yeah- Wait… wait… Where am I? You’re- you’re Merle- right? I know you… What’s going on?”

 

He tried to grasp everything happening. He tried to find something to latch onto. Davenport looked forward, there was someone in front of him. There was a strange dwarven man sitting in front of him, just staring at him. Davenport couldn’t remember who that man was, where he was, and who this heavy weight belonged to. He remembers vaguely, a love developed over years. But every time he brought a memory to the forefront, he couldn’t see any faces, remember any names. And then, he couldn’t remember the love. Everything felt gone, he felt empty, there was nothing.

 

“Wait... Who are you?”

 

There was only one thing that came to mind. One word, he knew for certain, his only word. “I-I’m Davenport. I’m Davenport. I’m… Davenport!”


	9. Chapter 9

Her face was kind and she moved Davenport gently. He didn’t know who she was but he trusted her. She was the only thing that was for certain. Her, and that his name was Davenport. 

 

Davenport clung to her. On the ship, everywhere he looked he saw static. The walls and rooms covered in static. Things scattered around the ship were so hard to look at. Clothes and robes that hurt his eyes. 

 

And then, in Her room, these was a wall of glowing nothing. Davenport heard certain melodies coming from the room when no one was in there. Sometimes static came from the room, loud, deafening static. When there was static, Davenport ran to Her for comfort. 

 

There was a period where he couldn’t find her. Davenport wandered the ship for days and days, searching every nook and cranny for her. When the room would sound, Davenport found a corner to hide in, tucking himself under the console. He tried going out the door but found it was locked completely, he was trapped  inside the ship as the static filled the empty halls, reverberating off the metal.

 

When She came back, she was different. She had bags under her eyes and cuts on her face. She had a weight to her that wasn’t there before. 

 

Lucretia came into the ship to see Davenport under the console and hearing Fisher bellowing a low G, the note it played when it wanted Magnus. Her heart burst, coming back was supposed to be the easy part. 

 

Davenport looked up at her as she stood in the doorway. He scrambled to his feet and ran to her. Lucretia crouched down with her arms open. He came to her as if he was her child, and she hugged him as if he was. 

 

“I won’t leave like that again, I promise.”

  
  


Over the years, Davenport learned her name was Lucretia. And then he learned again that her name was Lucretia. Her name was  _ Lucretia _ . He remembered that. He  _ will _ remember that. Lucretia. He could even say it sometimes.

 

“L-Lucretia?” He’d ponder.

 

She used to look at him in fear when he spoke her name. But as time went on, she learned to smile as he struggled with her name. 

 

He learned a few other names but didn’t speak them. Maureen, Lucas, and Miller. When they met, Lucas was about Davenport’s height. Davenport liked that. He thought Lucas was a gnome, like him. But Lucas grew, and Davenport watched him, over his shoulder, curious as to what he was doing. But every book, every paper was just as hard to read as everything else on the ship. 

 

Davenport was moved from the ship to a small home, to a laboratory, to the sky. Lucretia explained every time they changed setting, they needed off the ship, they needed a larger space, they needed to be hidden. Davenport went with her, afraid to leave her side, afraid she might leave him again. 

 

He grew so attached to her, almost too attached. He’d hang over her shoulder, and she’d tell him to go somewhere else. He would dance and sing for her, try to get her to smile, he liked it when she smiled. But she would get frustrated at him. It would get so much harder to make her smile.

  
  


Lucretia came to him one day with a vile and a suit. It was a powdered blue and had a stitched pattern on it.

 

“Change into this, it’s your new uniform.”

 

He changed quickly and as best as he could. He struggled with the buttons and the bowtie. Lucretia sighed and crouched down to his level, fixing the buttons on his dress shirt first, then his waist coat.

 

“Now, you have to come when I call you, okay? That’s the only way this is going to work,” She started on his bow tie. “They’re still… They’re still them… Maybe not as we knew them… But what Killian’s told me… They’re still the people we knew…”

 

She finished and she looked at him. Davenport never felt the pity in her stares, the sorrow, the regret. He just always thought her face was kind and she was worried about him. And she was, but not for the reasons he thought. 

 

Lucretia held the vial up between them, the contents were black and thick. Davenport stared at it.

 

“I’m gonna have to have you drink this, alright? It’s not going to taste very  good, but at least you won’t hear as much static anymore.”

 

Lucretia handed it to Davenport and he looked at it. He went to stick his fingers in it but Lucretia pushed them away.

 

“Drink, Davenport. Please.”

 

Davenport blinked and then did as she asked. He shuddered and choked.  _ Bad. It’s bad! _ He thought.

 

Lucretia stood up and ruffled his hair. “Thank you. You won’t regret it.”

 

Davenport watched her leave.

 

There was singing, Davenport could hear singing. He wandered toward it, following this sound that almost felt  _ familiar _ . Down the hall, where he would hear static from, he now heard the music.  _ Beautiful _ music. The room was lit as Lucretia quarters were, a blue and purple glow coming from a large vat of water. But this vat had something in it. A jellyfish containing the nebula, dazzling within it.

 

As Davenport entered, the music got louder, the lights got brighter, and Davenport felt happy. 

 

Fisher didn’t have a strong connection with Davenport, he rarely visited in the past century. Though,  it remembered Magnus and Lucretia talking about him. It was grateful for the company. It wondered where its child was, it missed the constant company of it.

 

Davenport sits in front of the void fish. Feeling happy and having the closest sensation to a memory since he could remember.

  
  


Davenport was given three more names to remember. Magnus, Merle, and Taako. He’d only see them a few times but he enjoyed every minute. He’d bring them gold, and take the relics from them. 

 

They soon expected his presence and Davenport was all too happy to oblige. They’d smile at him and cheer him on whenever he came into a room. He was ecstatic to be around them. Davenport gained a faint feeling of friendship from them.

 

He prepared a dance and song for them for Candle Nights, he practiced for weeks and gathered his costume for  _ weeks _ . 

 

_ “Davenport, read the room!” _ Lucretia had shouted at him, and he was so let down. 

 

“Wait real, quick I got a macaroon for ya boy. Open up, Davenport.” 

 

Davenport clattered up to Taako and accepted his gift with glee. A perfect macaron from one of his closest friends. 

 

_ “Beloved simpleton.” _

  
  


Everything seemed to happen that day, two guards followed him wherever he went, Magnus had died, they had the relic, and then he was with Lucretia. He was with Lucretia when Taako and Merle and a strange man were brought in the room. The guards had brought them in. 

 

The strange man broke free from the guards and charged for Lucretia. Davenport’s chest filled with panic as he stepped between the man and Lucretia.

 

_ You won’t hurt Lucretia. _

 

The man collided with him, contesting his strength for only a moment. The guard pulled him off of Davenport, but not before the man left a flask in his hand. Davenport stared at it, then the man. When he looked up, the man was already watching him. 

 

_ “Drink.” _ The man whispered. There was something in the back of his eyes. Desperation? Davenport wasn’t sure. Davenport didn’t trust him, but Davenport drank.

 

It all came back in the nano second it took for the flask to hit the group. Davenport’s entire life, his entire journey, his entire love, all comes rushing back. The context for of his past was finally back.

 

Davenport’s stomach lurched. The memories from the past 11 years surfaced one after another. To him, those were worse than the century he had lost. He saw himself hiding from the static, but his own memory betrayed him, playing the music in place of the static he knew he heard. He felt the lost six weeks where Lucretia had been gone, feeling the intense loneliness in a new way. He remembered the  _ dependence _ on Lucretia, the  _ devotion _ to Lucretia. He saw the looks in her eyes, he felt the pity she gave him. He felt the frustration in her words. He heard Taako, Merle, and Magnus’ laughter  _ at _ him. He felt the dances and songs and the embarrassment attached to them. Every stereotype he tried to disprove, every barrier he smashed, every ounce of personality was gone. He spent the past 11 years a shell of who he was alongside a traitor. A traitor he loved dearly. But a traitor nonetheless.

  
“ _ Lucretia _ , what’ve you  _ done _ ?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you liked it leave a comment! I have four more Adventure Zone fics! I also have Yuri!!! On Ice, Voltron, Miraculous Ladybug, RWBY, Gravity Falls, Star Wars, and Kingsmen fics! Go read those if you're interested! Thank you so much!


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